Lessons from the Wild

I grew up in a home where the kitchen was the center of everything. We were three kids, and my mom worked long hours, so she always made sure there were ingredients ready for my older brother to cook. But I always found myself stepping forward, asking him to let me try. The dish I loved most was Pilau ya Nyama. Back then, I just called it that, but today, as a chef, I’d call it Spicy Beef Pilaf. Usually eaten with a banana on the side, that dish is one of my favorite Swahili dishes to date.

I didn’t start in a big kitchen. I started in a small mini mart where we had just one stove to make tea and lunch. I used to offer to cook for everyone. My colleagues joked, “wewe ni mpishi,” which means “You’re a good chef,” and it stuck with me. They didn’t know it, but those lunches were the beginning of everything. That’s where I learned that food brings people together.

I went to Karen Technical Training Institute for the Deaf. I was a hearing student studying among deaf students. That experience shaped the way I communicate. I learned that leadership begins with listening. During our practicals, we would work in teams, present, and be done. But one lecturer would always tell me to stay behind and make one dish again by myself. At the time, I didn’t understand why. Now I know she saw dedication before I even understood the word. May God bless her for that.

My first real kitchen was at Karen Country Club, a private members’ golf club in Nairobi. I was fresh out of culinary school, nervous, curious, and eager to prove myself. The place had elegance, discipline, and silence that said everything. I started with the smallest jobs. Cutting. Peeling. Watching. There is a certain humility required to stand at the edge of the pass and study how food becomes memory. That kitchen gave me foundation and patience.

A moment that shaped me most was in Tsavo West National Park, a Luxurious Camp Hotel. My executive chef, Chef Ken, taught me how to respect ingredients. Real respect. Not just technique. Respect for where flavor begins. He trained me station by station, side by side. We grew herbs in the back garden and harvested them ourselves. He showed me how food can connect land, hands, and soul. Until now, he has been my mentor.

The early challenges were physical and emotional. Long shifts, heavy prep, the pressure of banquets. My body wasn’t ready. My mind wasn’t prepared. But passion has its own stamina, and I learned to adapt. I reminded myself that I was here for a reason. My parents reminded me too. My dad always says I took the road he wished he could walk. So I walk it for him too.

I used to be quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet. Being introverted in a loud environment is not easy. But a friend of mine, Chef Kilote, told me something that changed everything: “Get your basics right. Practice. Learn flavor. Let the work speak.” So we sharpened our skills until confidence became muscle memory. Until our silence spoke for us.

Working at Chophouse was a milestone. Not just the food, but the leadership as well. Menu development, art on a plate, and the joy of showing the world what we can do through photography and storytelling. It proved that creativity is meant to be shared. That food is also a voice.

There is so much I love about kitchen culture: The brotherhood, the drive, the discipline, the joy of creating something that didn’t exist that morning. But I’ve also seen what needs to change, like low wages, burnout, gatekeeping, and the fear of letting new voices rise. I want kitchens to become more human, more inclusive, and definitely more intentional.

I use my platform to tell real stories, mentor young cooks, and lead with empathy. I want to build teams that feel seen. I want to create spaces where every hand in the kitchen matters. My goal is to help develop a culinary world that values both people and creativity.

Let kitchens be places where chefs grow, not break. Where people are paid fairly and leadership is not about ego, but about guidance. Where creativity is not owned, but shared.

📸 Credits to @victar_wahome, @pauline_ciqu & @g_a_c_h_e_r_u